The Crossed Line: Consequences
by Blynnk
Summary: Jughead's having a hard time coming to terms with what happened in Archie's bedroom, so Archie takes charge once more. Despite their best intentions, they both have consequences to face. (Sequel to The Arrangement)


Jughead wanted to run. Or vanish. Or get out of Riverdale for good—permanently. Because Archie had just sat down across from him in his booth at Pop's, with a look on his face that meant he wanted to talk.

And they hadn't talked since what happened in Archie's bedroom.

Jughead started, "Look, can we not—"

"What happened?" It was accusatory, sharp, concerned.

Sighing, Jughead kept hiding behind his folded hands. His elbows were propped on the table, his hands resting against his nose. Didn't do much to disguise his black eye though.

"You should see the other guy," Jughead joked, reaching for his coffee mug, feeling Archie's gaze go right to the cut on Jughead's lip. "It's fine. It was business. Not… you know."

"Pleasure?"

He only managed the briefest eye contact with Archie, then had to look away. How did they get here? How the hell was he going to cope with Archie's sudden protectiveness, acting like he had a right to say what happened to Jughead's body? Not to mention everything else. Just hearing his voice brought Jughead right back to that bedroom. He could practically feel Archie inside him again.

They'd always been best friends. Now he had no idea what they were.

Betty and Veronica walked through the doors. They hadn't spotted the guys yet. There was no way Jughead was ready for the four of them to sit down and pretend like everything was normal. But, before he could react, Archie lowered his voice and said quickly, "Tonight. My place. Ten o'clock."

"I'm not sure—"

"It's not up for discussion."

Archie stood then, smiling, walked toward the girls. While Archie blocked their view, Jughead slipped out and fled the other way, throwing a few bills on the table as he went.

Several hours later, they were up in Archie's room again, sitting as far from each other as possible. They'd been in there for an hour, mostly in silence.

"So, you don't want to talk," Archie said. It wasn't a question. "Do you regret it? Should we stop?"

Jughead breathed out a laugh, his chest tight, his gaze glued to the floor, his knee bouncing restlessly. Again, he hid behind a hand. He shook his head, managed a quiet, "No."

The moment stretched and stretched. Jughead wasn't leaving, but he didn't know how to stay, either.

Then, Archie reached behind his back, producing a previously-hidden length of sleek, black cord. He began to run it through his hands, folding it over, his head slightly bowed and eyes dark, watching Jughead steadily. "Yes or no?"

Jughead looked up at the ceiling, at the closed door, down at the floorboards. "Yes."

The mood was different. Once it started, the pace was completely different too.

Archie came over, the cord tossed on the bed. His commands were short but clear. "Stand." A flick of his finger over fabric. "Shirt." Jughead pulled it off and dropped it. "Boots. Socks." Barefoot and shirtless, his insides twisted up as Archie hooked a finger in Jughead's belt loop and said, "Jeans." A moment later, left only in boxers, heart pounding, Jughead kept his gaze lowered as Archie grabbed the cap from his head, hair tumbling loose, "Get on the bed."

He was able to get there on his own this time, crawling onto it.

"No. On your back."

Jaw clenched, fighting back a protest, Jughead resisted for a long moment, then finally obeyed.

As soon as Archie was straddling his hips, Jughead felt overwhelmed. It was like an out-of-body experience as his wrists were crossed, then carefully bound with the cord. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't have recognized the darkness in Archie's eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the tense flex of his muscles.

Jughead's bound wrists were then tied to the headboard, his arms pulled up to stretch above his head. He wanted a blindfold, maybe a gag. He also wanted very much to not be on his back, facing where he was and with whom. Was he making Archie do this? Did he even want it? Was this all Jughead's fault?

As if in answer, Archie leaned down, propped on one hand, his mouth hovering barely above Jughead's. He bared his teeth, faked in as if for a kiss, head angled to the side, and Jughead stopped breathing. He didn't know if he could kiss Archie. It seemed somehow even more intimate than fucking. He didn't know if he could do this. It was too real. Too personal.

But then Archie's hand was on his bare chest, shocking Jughead into an inhale. As his lips parted for air, Archie pressed in, forcing his jaws open wide, licking inside. Jughead felt it all the way to his curled toes and grunted, unable to do anything but yield and fight for breath through his nose. The kiss was hard, deep, and dirty, with biting and impatience.

Then a hand was on his jaw, keeping his chin down and faced forward. "Look at me."

"Can't." He hated how weak it sounded. How broken.

The command came again, a growl, so forceful he couldn't disobey. "Look at me."

He was right there, filling Jughead's vision, their gazes locked as Archie slowly, lightly, almost sweetly kissed him again, then broke away. His hand pushed down on the waistband of his own shorts, exposing his erection. It was full, heavy, and swollen. Instinct told Jughead to look away as Archie palmed it, started to stroke. He moaned, then looked back into Jughead's eyes. "You're gonna know it's me touching you. You're gonna know that I want to do it. And you're gonna know who's in charge here."

God, but Jughead had never been so hard in his life. He'd never been so turned on or so scared either. Because Archie was right. Testing the strength of the cord and the knots, Jughead felt how trapped his arms were, his hips pinned beneath Archie. He knew then—felt—how he'd hoped to keep this as his own. His guilt. His fault. Another burden and responsibility to carry along with all the rest. Archie wasn't letting him do it.

Wanton, filthy, Archie writhed, thrusting against Jughead's hip, his hand plunging into the front of Jughead's boxers, his thumb swiping gently over the wetness dripping from the tip of him, his mouth open and breathing heavily as it skimmed over Jughead's, then a tease of his tongue. There was no way to process it all. It was a wet dream come true. "I know you too well," Archie chuckled with a cocky grin.

It chased up on him—all of it. Breathing became a struggle, the panic not letting go. He was thrusting against Archie's hand but also fighting it, trying to get free and escape.

"You're not going anywhere," Archie whispered. "We're here now. Can't undo it. So breathe. Relax."

"Can't."

"You can. Try." He let go—it was easier to breathe as soon as his cock wasn't in Archie's hand while also looking him in the eye—and caressed Jughead's abdomen. The size difference in their bodies was much more apparent this way, with Archie on top of him. The touching tickled as fingers skimmed lightly through the hollow of his hip, so he twisted, sucked in his stomach. "Last time was about what you want. How about this time is about what I want? Fair?"

He waited for a reply, so Jughead nodded once. "Fair."

The hand brushed its way up the center of his body to his throat, then his lips. Archie's gaze fixed there, lingering. Something told him Archie wasn't confused about what it was he wanted.

He moved, straddling Jughead's chest rather than his hips, one hand braced on the headboard, the other keeping his shorts down past his straining hard-on.

Breaths fast and shallow, Jughead fought to speak past the emotional storm brewing inside him, and all of the difficult truths he was being made to face. "I… I haven't…"

Archie watched him, then nodded. "Okay. Gentle then. Open."

With a shaky, heavy exhale, Jughead let his mouth fall open wide, his tongue pressed forward as Archie angled for him. He moaned as Jughead gasped when the head of his cock slid back over Jughead's tongue, just an inch or two into his mouth. His lips closed around the shaft. Archie caressed the side of his jaw, back into his dark hair, palming and lifting the back of his head while making shallow movements forward and back. The tip bobbed out and back in past Jughead's lips. The tang of Archie's pre-come hit Jughead's tastebuds. Eye closed, he sucked, kissed and licked while pretending Archie wasn't watching this. Licking was easier than sucking. Each time he started, he just thought about what he was doing and to whom and freaked out.

"Look at me."

Jughead whimpered, frowned.

Tenderly, "It's okay."

It hurt to do it, but he gazed up. Archie's hand massaged the back of his scalp, through his hair, the eye contact as Archie looked down at him with a clenched jaw stirred tears that burned the behind Jughead's eyes. Part of him hated Archie for it, for making him face exactly the person Jughead was—had always secretly been.

Not letting him look away, Archie thrust again, just a little, setting a rhythm and fucking his mouth. But after just a few seconds, he shivered and hissed, "Fuck." He pulled out, bowed his head and took a few deep breaths, like he was fighting to calm down.

Once he had it together again, he removed Jughead's boxers, slipped an arm under each of Jughead's legs, and—hooking them up over his shoulders—pressed down to fold him in half. Two wet fingers twisted up through Jughead's hole and spread.

Jughead swallowed a sob, lifting his chin, blinking hard. He closed his eyes and writhed, unable to escape the probing at all, making more pleading sounds. Archie angled for his mouth, waited for Jughead to open for a kiss, and tongued him as his fingers pumped. Jughead felt his skin pebble, his nipples stiffened, feet flexed and hands in fists. He pushed down onto the fingers and tried to remember to breathe.

The kiss broke and Archie seemed to drink down all of Jughead's small, broken cries.

Then he stopped. Got still. Pulled out and climbed off the bed.

"What are you… Archie…"

He walked to the desk where his phone rested. He titled it up and there was a click. Jughead rolled his eyes, lifting his chin and tried to hide behind his arm. "What are you doing?" Archie climbed back onto the bed, pressing Jughead's thighs more widely apart before there was another click.

The phone dropped with a soft thud. Archie, stripped of his shorts, got them back into the same position as before. They were both completely naked now. "Delete those," Jughead growled.

"They're for me. Just me," Archie swore.

"Blackmail?"

"No," he scoffed. "Seeing you like this… I needed to… you know. Preserve it. Look at me."

He tried to stay mad, to resist, and then caved. As soon as he did, Archie thrust his cock inside. Jughead cried out, tensing up in surprise only after Archie was inside him, drawing a hard groan in response. There was no pain this time, just a dull ache, which made it much more difficult to keep it together as Archie pressed deeper, sinking in to the root with a wrecked moan.

He held there, catching his breath and caressing the curve of Jughead's bare ass as Jughead fought the cord binding him. He futilely also fought the weight Archie's hard, muscular body spreading, folding, and pinning him. He even clenched his inner muscles around Archie's cock as if to expel it. But there was nowhere to go. He was taken. Claimed.

Fingers rubbed at his stretched rim, the place they were interlocked. Their foreheads were touched. Archie angled his head, teased the tip of his tongue over Jughead's lip, withdrew his cock a few inches and pressed back in, catching Jughead's subsequent gasp with a hungry kiss.

Then it was just Archie moving, taking him, fucking him. His hips slapped against Jughead's ass, his greedy movements too deep to be borne easily, or quietly.

A scrambling need rushed up to encompass Jughead, and he pleaded, "Let… Let me out. Let me out of this. Please."

Dazed, Archie stopped, looked at him. Saw him yanking at the cord.

He reached up and untied it, pulling it loose and off of him. He massaged Jughead's bruised wrists.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Better."

Archie watched him. Waited. But when he saw Jughead really was fine, he gathered him up in their closest embrace yet. Jughead wrapped his arms around Archie's back and buried his face in his neck. For a few rolling thrusts, they moved together. Then Archie sat back. Jughead held on and went with him so that he was pulled up onto his lap. Then he kept going, working himself with small rolls of his hips down onto Archie's length inside him.

Archie gasped, frowned, held on tight enough to bruise, hips snapping upward as he came. Through the aftershocks, he tugged Jughead's cock until he spilled hot over his fingers, then hugged him close as he trembled.

Both exhausted, they fell back as Archie withdrew, collapsing on the bed. Archie lay between Jughead's thighs as he happily stretched out and waited for the room to stop its spinning. His pulse pounded in his ears, muffling the sound of approaching footsteps and the soft knock at the door.

"Archie?" Fred Andrews called as he opened the door, "Hey, you know where the key to the shed is? I thought it…"

He'd moved instinctively to block Jughead from sight with his body, yelling a frantic, "Get out!"

"What the…"

"I said get out!"

The door slammed shut.

"No," Jughead prayed. "No, no, no, no…"

"Hey. I'll deal with it." He grabbed Jughead by the chin, forced eye contact once more. "I promise you. I'll deal with it. It's going to be okay."

"How can you believe that?"

But Archie had no reply.

The shower ran upstairs. Archie sat across from his father at the kitchen table. He wore his need to protect Jughead like an armor, staying safe behind it as much as possible, letting confidence he didn't feel fill his voice.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Not long."

Fred didn't appear convinced.

He ran his hand over his hair. "Are you being safe?"

"Of course."

He looked up. "Using condoms?"

Archie bit his tongue, averting his eyes.

"Archie…" Fred sighed. "You know better. If you need some, I'll get them."

Archie stayed silent.

Fred added, "I'll take you both to the clinic tomorrow to get tested."

"Dad, you don't have to—"

"It's not optional. If you want me to keep this to myself—keep it from FP—this is my condition. The only one. Okay?"

Archie relented. He had no choice. Hopefully Jughead would forgive him. "Fine. Okay."

Fred shook his head, looking tired, "I just don't understand. Why risk your friendship like this?"

Archie pushed back his chair and stood, needing to go check on Jughead. "See, Dad, that's where you're wrong. He was never just a friend to me."

He left before his father could question him again.

"You okay?"

Jughead nodded. He was showered, dressed and sitting on the edge of Archie's bed, now stripped of its sheets. Archie imagined him up here frantically gathering up the evidence while Archie faced the music downstairs.

"Hell of a reality check," Archie added. "He just wants us to be safe. That's what I want too. Hey."

Jughead looked up.

"We can do this. And I kind of like that it's real now."

"Yeah," Jughead confessed with a shy smile, his face flushed pink, his lips kiss-bitten. "I think I like it too."


End file.
